Final Redemption
by WickedGriffin
Summary: Six years after the final battle Hermione is still fighting her inner demons and has left the magical world behind her in order to move on from the worst type of betrayal. Lucius on the other hand is doing anything to avoid his conscience whilst trying to adapt to a forced life without magic. Neither are succeeding alone.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue.

Six years after the final battle and she was still waking frequently in the night, gasping for breath and reaching for her wand. More often than not covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat and stomach churning. There was no escaping it. It haunted her. Turning onto her side she glared at the glowing numbers on her distinctly muggle alarm clock, ten past four. The dawn not yet breaching the horizon. Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and flipped onto her stomach grasping at her pillow and burying her tear stained face into the soft down. What she wouldn't give for a full night of sleep. Outside of the small two story house a squat, fat, ginger tabby prowled the immaculate lawn. There wasn't much to entertain him in this quiet neighbourhood. Like his Mistress he had always been more intelligent than his peers due in no small part to the unique magical blood coursing through his veins. There was no challenge presented by the standard pet cats that roamed the streets, all being sure to give him a wide berth, and he had no need to hunt. Glaring once more at the lengthening shadows he stalked to the back door and through the flap, paws gently padding over worn linoleum and up the stairs in search of her. He jumped onto the bed and settled into the dip of her back, a warm, solid weight hoping to bring her some comfort, for nobody else came anymore. An hour later he was rudely dislodged as Hermione once again bolted to her feet, hand scrambling to the bedside table and grasping nothing but air. Within seconds she stopped herself, but the instinct was always the same. It had been years since she had last touched her wand, buried now as it was in the bottom of her old school trunk in the spare room that she never entered. She just wanted to forget. Yet still she reached for it. Not just when waking into panic, but for everyday tasks such as repairing small items or cleaning up spills. Resolute as always she told herself to stop it. To stop thinking of what was and focus on the here and now. On her reception job in a dental office. On her small but perfect-for-her house. On the mundane tasks and chores of living. On learning and reading about... everything. Anything to keep her looking forward instead of back. She wasn't acting the muggle anymore, she was a muggle. She was born a muggle and she would die a muggle, and those seven and a half years of her magical life meant nothing to her anymore. Nothing.

"Morning Crooks." She whispered, looking down at him as he wrapped himself around her legs. He was starting to show a bit of age now, some fur turning grey and sleeping more often than not. She wasn't sure how old only being able to guess at his age since he wasn't a kitten when she got him all those years ago. There again as he was part kneazle she wasn't sure on what his life expectancy would be anyway.

He answered with the expected mewling and she stuffed her feet into her worn out Garfield slippers and headed down the stairs to make tea. Kettle brewing she tipped a mix of biscuits and tinned cat food into his dish and idly watched his tail swish from side to side as he got stuck in. She contemplated breakfast but quickly disregarded it, her stomach still churning slightly from the last of the nightmares. Absentmindedly she rubbed the inside of her left arm only snapping out of the daze when the click of the kettle announced itself. She had been a little surprised at first, at how easy it was to slide back into muggle living. Almost as if she had never left. It took her longer to adjust to the subtle differences between England and the States than anything. The distance was comforting though. Her new life so far removed from the old it helped to keep the flashbacks at bay. She was almost normal during the day now. Those first months hadn't been easy, jumping at shadows and startling at every creak in the house. Suspicion so engrained that a friendly neighbour wanting to welcome her to the neighbourhood had nearly met a very sticky end. It was at that point she had hidden her wand away from herself. What good had magic ever done her really anyway? Magic was dangerous. Magic hurt.

Finishing her tea and dumping the cup into the sink for later she wearily headed back upstairs to get ready for work. The hot water of the shower easing some of the tension in her muscles away and allowing her to pretend that tears weren't once again silently streaming down her face. Only once she was all cried out did she turn off the water and leave the stall. Wrapping an oversized fluffy towel around herself she set to the marathon that was fixing her hair. It was easier to tame fresh from being washed. Twisting it into an elegant knot she moved on to her make-up. She kept it light working only to conceal what she could of the bags under her eyes before using foundation on her arms to cover the raised scars, careful not to focus on them in the process. She would wear long sleeves, like always, it was to risky not to, but the extra layer of concealment made her feel a little more confident. It was a small victory. Once dressed she headed back downstairs and collected her bag, seeing Crookshanks was asleep on the couch she didn't bother with calling a goodbye but left in silence to walk the five blocks to work.

"Morning Mr Roberts." Hermione raised a smile for her employer as she came through the door, moving to stand behind the reception desk and flicking the computer into life. "Did you need something?"

"I need you to stop calling me Mr Roberts, Mi; you make me feel like an old man." He smiled at her.

"Alright then pain in my ass, did you need something?" He chuckled lightly at the cheek of the young girl in front of him, she was beautiful, though she didn't know it. Especially on the rare occasions she let her attitude come out to play. If only he was forty years younger.

"Can you book Lucy in with Carl for a check-up?"

Mi nodded in answer and took a quick look at the appointments screen, "Thursday at four-thirty ok?" She asked, smiling at the thought of seeing Mr Roberts book-loving Granddaughter.

"Sure thing. Could you bring me a coffee through when you get a minute?"

"Sure thing." She echoed his words back at him. Working as a receptionist and dogsbody at a dental practice hadn't even been an option on her list of career choices, but she was grateful for this job. Brightest witch of her age or not, she had no relevant qualifications in the muggle world, or even a school reference available. Things had been very tight for a while until she had chanced upon the interview for maternity cover. Her application form was half empty, and her interview had been, she knew, a complete disaster so poor was her confidence. She had been a wreck, barely able to look Mr Steven Roberts or his practice partner Mr Carl Gresham in the eyes, not to mention shaking like a leaf. Yet the knowledge of how a dental practice runs and what was needed, courtesy of her much missed parents had saved the day. Or so she thought. Neither of her employers had ever shared with her the discussion they had had before offering her the position. They both felt sorry for the young girl who was clearly trying to make her way out of a bad situation. They presumed some sort of domestic abuse. Everything about Hermione screamed runaway, and with her shaking hands and English accent it was obvious she had run far and run hard. Over the nine months cover they saw her confidence grow a little and she handled appointments, customers and stock-takes with such ease they wondered at her apparent lack of education. At any rate when their previous receptionist decided not to return they had no qualms about making Mi a permanent member of the team. They would be lost without her now.

xXxXxXx

"Stupid God Damned muggle medicine." He growled through clenched teeth. He felt like the side of his mouth was on fire. The tablets the pharmacist had offered him doing nothing to touch it. He was furious. All the stupid woman kept saying was to go and see a dentist. He would sooner prostrate himself at the feet of a Dark Lord. "Crucio is less fucking painful than this." Nobody answered. He didn't expect anyone to, for he had been alone for a long and miserable six years. Outcast from his world and made to live like one of the, "Stupid muggles." He growled again before grabbing the phone off the counter. Taking the card he had been given out of his pocket he dialled the number.

"Goldcrest Dental Surgery, Mi speaking." The English accent stopped him in his tracks. She sounded like home. "Hello?.." Dragging himself back to the here and now he bit out,

"I need an emergency appointment". The constant pain was to much. At least a Crucio was over and done with, it had been two weeks and the aching tooth was making his entire jaw throb.

"Are you a registered patient Sir?" the voice asked.

"No. I was given your card and told to call. Is that a problem?" He didn't know what he was going to do if it was. His name carried no weight in the muggle world. He hated feeling so out of his depth.

"We can offer you an appointment at three this afternoon, but you'll need to come in around twenty minutes before to fill out the paperwork." Thank fuck for that he thought.

"I'll take it."

"OK. If I could just take your name please Sir."

"It's Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy." The phone went dead in his hand. He shook his head and slammed the phone back down on the counter. Yet another example that muggles have no manners. Perhaps he would mention it to the chit when he arrived for his appointment that afternoon. There again given that his toothache was now accompanied by deep pangs of homesickness maybe he would be better off avoiding _Miss-English-Accent_ if at all possible.


	2. Chapter 2

The only sounds in the waiting room were the ticking of the clock and the occasional echo of a door closing from down the corridor. Her lunch sat on the desk beside the computer untouched. She couldn't move her gaze from the screen. The open appointments for the afternoon staring back at her. It couldn't be him. It just couldn't. What would Lucius Malfoy be doing in Dedham County? It made no sense. It wasn't logical, and if it wasn't logical then it wouldn't be true. She could acknowledge that Malfoy was not the most common of names, but they couldn't be the only Malfoy family in the world. Then there was Lucius. Maybe she misheard; maybe the man had said Luke, which was quite a common name in the States after all. It was the English accent that threw her off. That was it. She should just forget about it. He would never come to a muggle dentist even back in England. He couldn't be here. She resolved to think on it no further, instead she took her lunch to the staff room to dispose of it before coming back and reopening the door the lunch hour over. Gradually the afternoon patients trickled in, and if she couldn't concentrate on her work and her eyes kept returning to the name beside the three o'clock slot, well, she could hardly be blamed. A name like that was bound to be a trigger.

At two thirty she took the opportunity to close her eyes and take some deep breathes. She refused to let herself fall apart. She was stronger than this. Than him. They won the war after all. She was on the winning side not the losing. She had nothing to be ashamed of except her naivety. With a rush of realisation she focussed her mind back to the end of the battle. She had seen him searching frantically through the bodies, calling for his son. He found him soon enough. Pale and still. Despite all that had gone before it, despite Fred, despite Remus, despite Tonks or even Dobby. Or further back to Dumbledore and Sirius, it was over Dracos body that she first saw someone truly break in their grief. As though there was nothing left to live for. She had reflected on it before and found it humbling. It made her pity him. It made her wonder at the point of it all, if it was worth it. It made her wonder at how much love there was in that outwardly cold and haughty family. Obviously more than any other she had known. Thinking back on it from the safety of distance and time, and with the knowledge she would never see any of the people concerned was easy. She could disassociate from it and dissect it as someone elses life. Coming face to face with those people though, as she did each night in her dreams didn't offer that protection. She felt like she was back there, she could hear the screams and feel the pain. She opened her eyes again a mere moment later. The breathing hadn't worked; she could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears. The back of her neck was cold and clammy and her empty stomach was rolling. She didn't want to face him. She couldn't. She stood swiftly, gracing the startled occupants of the waiting room with a faked smile and headed down to the consultant rooms to see her employer. Pausing outside of his door for just a moment she considered what excuse she could give. She wasn't able to lie outright anymore but how could she possibly explain. She never gave any explanation for her leaving England and he had never asked. With silent agreement it was something none of her colleagues had ever asked her. She didn't have time to think. If it was him then he could arrive at any moment, she had instructed him to come in early hadn't she, to fill in the new patient forms. She raised her hand, not surprised to see it shaking violently as she gently knocked on the door before stepping back. She could hear Mr Roberts quietly excuse himself, and then his footsteps approach the door, opening it swiftly.

"Yes?" Before she could form the words in her mind he had closed the door behind him stepping towards her, a concerned expression forming on his face. "Are you ok? You look sick."

There it was. She didn't have to lie. She did feel sick. "Yes," she stuttered "I I feel quite ill." Softly he took her arm and led her to the staff room, sitting her on the couch. She sucked in a rattling breath as he crouched infront of her.

"What's wrong?"

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't breathe. Then she was breathing too much. She couldn't stop it or control it. The shaking spread from her hands to her whole body, and she quickly pulled her knees up to her chest wrapping her arms around them. Her fingers automatically gripped her sleeves to prevent them riding up even slightly. Tears escaped her eyes and ran freely down her face.

"Mi!" Mr Roberts was shocked to see his young employee fall apart infront of his eyes. Sure when she first started she was jumpy and would shake sometimes, presumably from nerves. She was so much better now than she had been though, and she had never been this bad. What the hell was going on?

"What is it? What happened? Did you get some bad news...?" He stopped himself from ending with '...from home?' She never spoke about anything like that, and he had never asked.

She grimaced and choked out "No, no, no," shaking her head with each syllable. It became a chant as she moved her head, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no..."

"Mi, look at me. It's ok." Was she having some sort of seizure? No she was aware of him, her frantic eyes had moved to his when he spoke. They were wild and afraid. No worse than that, as though she was terrified. Scared for her life. "It's ok." He repeated. She was silent now but still shaking violently, tears still falling. "It's ok." He said again. "Nothing is going to hurt you." At that her face crumpled and fearing for how much further apart she could fall he reached out to help hold her together, wrapping his hands around her arms. The last thing he expected was the scream that tore from her throat as though his touch burned her. He jumped backwards in surprise landing with little grace, backside first, on the staffroom floor. Even less expected was the strength in the rough hand that closed over his shoulder wrenching him to his feet and forcing him against the wall. He had never before been pinned to a wall in his life.

The man doing the holding was taller than himself, a good six foot tall, and mercy he was strong. His eyes were an icy shade of grey and held bottomless amounts of anger. He looked dangerous. Is this who Mi was afraid of? He should have called the police. He was struggling to breath and he felt cold. As though the temperature in the room had dropped when this man entered. Frantically he scrabbled at the hand around his throat. When the man spoke it was with a hard voice. The English accent making him leap from presumption to certainty. It couldn't be coincidence that Mi was so afraid and then an Englishman, a violent Englishman had forced his way into the staff room.

"What the fuck did you do to her Muggle-scum?" How the hell was he supposed to answer a question when he could barely breathe? The hand squeezed tighter, "Did you curse her?!" Jesus the man was deranged! No wonder Mi had run from him.

Neither of them expected the shaky voice that reached them from across the room. "Lucius let him go." Their heads snapped towards her in tandem. Mr Roberts heart sank, why hadn't she run? She could have gotten out. Have called for help. The hand around his throat vanished as the man dropped him and walked over to take his previous position, crouching infront of the still shaking girl on the couch. This time he addressed his question to her.

"Did he hurt you Miss Granger?" Mr Roberts was shocked at the gentleness in the mans tone. It was completely at odds with his threatening persona of just moments ago. He rubbed his throat and watched closely, muscles tensed lest the man change again. Wait a minute. Did he say Granger? That wasn't her name, yet she was answering him.

"No." She whispered. "He's my boss." She paused here and seemed to search the mans face. "He was helping me." The man, Lucius was it, appeared perplexed at this and raised a hand to scrub through his short blonde hair. He didn't miss the fact that Mi flinched as his hand passed her face. Neither did the man though as he paused with his hand still on his head.

"You have no need to fear me Miss Granger. I have never actually hurt you after all." At this Mi let out a shaky laugh. So he was right, they did know each other.

"I was afraid that it would be you." Her voice was small, though she seemed much calmer. The man remained silent and the two appeared to just be watching each other. Both cautious.

All three jumped when Mr Gresham, the other dentist in the practice, spoke from the doorway.

"Is everything ok in here? You have a patient waiting Anthony." He addressed Mr Roberts. He ignored Carl for a moment, standing from the wall he was leaning against and approaching the two at the couch.

"Will you be ok Mi?"

"Yes Sir, I'm sorry for... before. I," she stuttered again, "I don't know what came over me." He nodded slowly searching her face for any sign of discomfort. Finding none he turned and made his way to the door.

"Carl could stay with you while I finish up this patient." He offered knowing his partner had a quiet afternoon ahead.

"Oh, I can't. I have an emergency patient at three; he should be here by now." Carl looked regretfully between them. Taking an audible breath Hermione spoke again.

"Mr Gresham, this is Mr Malfoy. Your three o'clock." Ignoring the raised eyebrows of her employers she turned once more to Lucius. "Mr Gresham is your dentist; you can fill out the paperwork after your appointment."

At this she stood, all three men noting that she was still shaking lightly and looking on in concern. Lucius moved his hand to support her back instinctively but stopping short of actually touching her. As she moved ahead of him out of the room she stopped once more, taking the time to again address her second boss. "He's never been to a dentist before so you might want to explain each step to him." With that she moved off down the corridor at a pace slightly slower than normal, one hand brushing the wall as though she wasn't totally confident in her ability to hold herself up. Once she was out of sight Mr Gresham, having not witnessed the aggressive display Lucius had exploded on his colleague minutes before invited him politely through to his consulting room enquiring how it was he had never previously seen a dentist.

Mr Roberts found himself alone in the corridor trying to wrap his head around the last ten minutes. Finding it made no more sense now than it did then he shook his head, rolled his neck and headed back to his room to apologise to his patient. He would ponder it after he had finished this extraction.

Hermione rounded her desk and sank into her seat. Relieved to find the waiting room was now empty. She slowly forced herself to take a deep breath, holding it for a count of three. She did this three times, and then lowered her eyes to watch her hands move slowly over the blood on the sleeves of her jumper. When Mr Roberts touched her, it had felt like her skin was burning. Her throat ached from the scream she had given out, not of fear, but of pain. She resisted taking a look knowing there was nothing she could do until she returned home, and instead pulled on the black cardigan that she kept over the back of her chair. She didn't want to be questioned about her injuries. She wondered why Mr Roberts touch had reopened the old wounds. He was a muggle after all. He might have some latent magic in him she supposed. After the shock of that, seeing Lucius Malfoy hadn't been as bad as she thought it would be. It hadn't been pleasant, but the sight of him alone hadn't frozen her. The bell over the door rang as the next patient entered into the office, taking one more deep breath she pasted a smile on her face and greeted them.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucius paused in the doorway to the waiting room out of habit, to check what he was walking in to. It was once again empty except for the beautiful witch sitting at the desk. She looked back at him chewing on her bottom lip. He could feel her nervousness in the air. He felt like he could breathe it in. His feet moved him swiftly across to the desk with his usual leonine grace. He felt more confident in her presence. She knew him. She was aware of his status and that was self-affirming.

"Miss Granger." He drawled in acknowledgement.

"Lord Malfoy." She whispered back. Making his eyebrows rise.

"It's not Lord anymore Miss Granger, as you well know." He sounded stern. Well that wasn't exactly a surprise she supposed, though he presumed wrong in that she knew of his fall from grace. Did he think she was insulting him by using his title? She was just trying to be polite.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I," here she paused, searching for words. "I haven't heard from anyone in a long time." His eyebrows crept even higher on his forehead.

"That surprises me; surely the world was your oyster after your victory?" He silently damned the note of curiosity that had come out in his tone. What the hell was she doing here? Why wasn't she living it up in wizarding London, or working at the Ministry, or heaven forbid breeding a little red-headed army.

"Yes, well. It wasn't what I wanted. In the end." An awkward silence followed. For all his training and years of hosting elaborate events he found himself floundering for something to say. Luckily she interrupted his frantic thoughts. "Do you need another appointment?"

"Yes." He seized on the topic, "In three days' time."

"Ok." She bent her head to the computer and he took the opportunity to take in her appearance. She looked tired, and far too thin. Her cheek bones were prominent, his eyes grazed down her body to her hands typing so efficiently on the keys. Her wrists and fingers looked fragile, like they would break if he wrapped his own hands around them. He wondered when she last ate. Why Potter and the Weasleys had agreed to her living, and working, here. Was nobody checking on her? Taking care of her? She was just a child really. The same age as Draco. He felt the familiar pang of loneliness in his heart when he thought of his son. Merlin, he would never get over it. The pain inside of him had his mouth opening before he could think, his words clashing with hers.

-"Let me take you to dinner."

-"Is the same time ok?"

Both startled, waited for a fraction of a second, then answered in unison.

"Yes."


End file.
